


God's Truth

by homomeme



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Other, Sadstuck, Triggers, rose is like 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 02:51:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3712048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homomeme/pseuds/homomeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this is bad I feel awful for writing this please don't hate me</p>
<p>it goes from sad to awful to even worse and it's really long like I'm not even done typing all of it yet but yeah</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I'm going to tell you God's truth, little girl. You listen good." Rose watched the woman take a long drink, and swallow down the tears and misery, and let anger rise and flow. "All men want to do is use you. When you give them your heart, they tear it to shreds." She drank more, and her voice slurred. 

What was her name again? Rose didn't care to ask, her mother had a tendency to put her off on strangers when she needed a 'break'.

"None of 'em care. Take your father. Does he care about your mother? No."  
Rose dug frantically beneath the covers and plugged her ears. She knew this was the truth, but a stranger was the last person she needed to hear this from.

Furious, the woman yanked the blankets from her. When Rose scrambled away, she grabbed her by the legs and dragged her back. 

"Sit up and listen to me!" She pulled the child up and shook her. Rose squeezed her eyes shut, and turned her face away.

"Look at me!" The woman raged, not satisfied until she obeyed. 

Rose stared at her with wide, frightened eyes. She trembled violently. The woman eased her grip.

"Your mother told me to take good care of you," she said. "Well, i /am/ going to take care of you. I'm going to tell you Gods truth. You listen and you learn." She let go and Rose sat very still. 

Glaring at the little girl, the woman dropped into the chair by the window and took another swig of rum. Rose struggled not to wince when she pointed with a wobbly hand and said: "Your idiot father doesn't care about anyone, least of all you. All he cares of your mother is what shes willing to give to him. And she gives him everything. He shows up when he pleases and uses her, then rides off to his fine house in town with his aristocratic wife and well-bred children. And your mother? She lives for the next time shell see the bastard."

She watched Rose inch back until she was pressed tightly against the peeling wall. As though that would protect her. Nothing protected a woman from the cold hard facts. She gave a sad laugh and shook her head. 

"Shes such a sweet stupid fool. She waits for him and falls on her face to kiss his feet when he comes back. You know why he went away for so long? Because of you. He cant stand the sight of his own bastard child. Your mother cries and begs, and what goods it ever done her? Sooner or later hes going to get tired of her and toss her into the trash. And you with her. That's one thing you can count on."

Rose was crying by then and she reached up to wipe tears from her cheeks.   
"Nobody cares about anybody in this world." the woman said, feeling sadder and more morose by the second. "We all just use each other in one way or another. To feel good. To feel bad..." Rose sniffled, and the woman took another swig, before lifting the bottle in a mock cheer. 

"To feel nothing at all." She finished the bottle, and leaned down to set it on the floor. 

"The lucky ones are real good at it. The rest of us just take what we can get." She was having trouble thinking straight. She wanted to keep talking, but her eyelids were too heavy. She couldn't keep them open. She sank lower into her chair and rested her chin on her chest.

All she needed was to rest a minute. That was all. Then everything would be better...

Rose watched as she continued babbling, sagging deeper into the chair, until she went to sleep. She snored loudly, spittle dripping from the corner of her mouth.  
Rose sat in the rumpled bed, shivering and wondering if the woman was right. But deep inside of her, something told her she was. If her father cared, wouldn't he have wanted her? If Mom cared, would she have sent her away so constantly? 

God's truth? 

What was God's truth?


	2. Crying did no good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh moms a prostitute to keep the family alive btw

Rough men came to visit Mom, and she'd ask Rose to wait outside until they left. They never stayed very long. Sometimes they pinched her cheek and said they would come back when she got a bit bigger. Some said she was prettier than her mother, but Rose knew that wasn't true. 

She didn't like them. Mom laugh when they came and acted like she was happy to see then. But when they went away, she cried and drank gin until she fell asleep in the rumpled bed by the window. 

At seven, Rose wondered if the drunken woman hadn't been partly right about Gods truth.

Then Bro came to live with them, and things got better. Not as many men came to visit, though they still did when Bro didn't have any coins to jingle in his pockets. He was big and dull, and mom treated him with affection. They slept together in the bed by the window, and Rose had the cot on the floor. 

"Hes not too bright," Mom said to her, "But he has a kind heart and he tries to provide for us. Times are hard, darling, and sometimes he cant. He needs moms help." 

Sometimes he just wanted to sit outside the door and get drunk and sing songs about women. 

When it rained, he would go to the club down the road to be with his friends. Mom would drink and sleep. To pass the time, Rose found tin cans and washed them until they shone like silver. She set them beneath the roof leaks. Then shed sit in the quiet apartment with the rain beating down and listen to the music the drops made plinking into the tins.

Mom cried and cried and cried until Rose wanted to cover her ears and never hear her again. All Mom's crying never changed anything. Crying did no good.

When the other children mocked Rose, and caller her mother names, she looked at them and said nothing. What they said was true, she couldn't argue with it. When she felt the tears coming up, building like a great hard pressure inside her, hot, so hot she thought they would burn, she swallowed them down deeper and deeper until they became a hard little stone in her chest. She learned to look back at her tormentors and smile with cold arrogance and disdain. She learned to pretend they said could touch her, they only knew about her mother because their fathers were the men who visited anyway. 

Sometimes she even convinced herself nothing did.


End file.
